


i'm tangled up in you

by beware_phangirl (dantiloquent)



Series: One Shots [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluffy Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Writing, not a proper ending, self hate, there's some existential stuff but it's more comfort for it so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantiloquent/pseuds/beware_phangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit at a typewriter and bleed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm tangled up in you

**Author's Note:**

> based off this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vn5FSG4i2yc  
> thanks to eunice and masey for betaing! this wouldn't be what it is without them <3  
> italics are dan's writing yay

_I wallow in words that don't make sense, because I spend my time trying to describe something as enigmatic and intangible as you._  
-  
"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed," is how the quote goes, and Dan’s blood is full with the entire essence of Phil, and it hurts, _fuck_ it hurts. He's not sure how it happened, because this red hot infatuation has been around for years, yet here he is, finding words that pour from his fingertips like tears, and he's writing like he's only just falling in love. Like he's falling in love again.  
Perhaps he is. Perhaps he's falling in love with the idea of Phil that he's creating with the ink.  
Each word reeks with Phil, everything about him. The words cry out about his psychedelic eyes and his voice and his laugh. There are infinite parts to Phil, and each is so fucking important; Dan never runs out of things to write.  
Dan has never been a writer. A reader, maybe, but not a writer. But now he's a scripturient, and every new second with Phil makes him crave to write again, to pen down everything that comes to mind.  
Dan never knew he could be so goddam poetic. It's quite sad, really.  
He keeps the notes in a Google Doc, which is handy for several reasons. One; no one uses docs, so it's under no risk of being found by prying eyes - particularly blue ones. Two; it's on his phone and his laptop and anything else with google, everywhere he could possibly need it to be when he just needs to write. The flow of words are almost as insistent as Dan's heart beat. He can write with Phil in the room, and when that happens Dan doubts himself, because Phil's smiling, he always is, and how can Dan even try to describe it?  
He perseveres, though. Because it's not Phil he's describing, not exactly. He's describing his Phil; Phil how Dan sees him, Phil with all the emotions that swirl and churn inside Dan's chest left in. That's technically Phil. It's  
his Phil (and Dan blocks out the thought that that's the closest he'll ever get to an excuse to say that).  
The words take their own course as the emotion takes over.  
-  
 _I look at you and see so much and I look at myself and see so little and I know you will never need me_  
-  
The camera's rolling, and Dan's laughing, laughing with Phil like he does every goddamn time. Phil's videos radiate with the joy and kindness that radiate from Phil himself; he's a gift of happiness, sweet like honey. He’s like the silver starlight that spills over the window sill when Dan stares at the sky, insomnia haunting his brain; he betters everything he touches. Dan knows that, the viewers know that, and he really hopes Phil knows it, too, because he is so important.  
He's too important, and Dan isn't. Phil doesn't owe Dan anything, but he gives so much to Dan anyway, and the question 'why do you stay' crosses Dan's mind as he stares at Phil in awe, eyes wide and face flushed.  
They meet fans, fans who tell stories of dark times overcome by videos, and the tales are told with bright smiles and they hug Dan tightly and some hug Phil tighter, and Dan knows why. He was them once and he still is, and Phil Lester is a godsend made of azure blue and sunshine. He’s practically Dan’s sky, and a beautiful one at that.  
Phil offers to edit Dan's video again - after spending hours helping him film - and he's only just finished editing Louise's, but here he is, sincere as he offers. Dan just looks at him incredulously and refuses, but Phil insists - and Dan was never going to be able to say no. Dan checks up on him as he works, bringing cups of tea and biscuits and silent desires to hug him and brush their fingers; he mutes the TV sometimes, and he can hear Phil laughing at all the right places and he can see Phil's laugh, beautiful face scrunched up without a care in the world and in those moments Phil Lester is even more sunshine. Dan doesn't know why he's laughing, why he ever laughs at Dan's pitiful excuses at humour, but Dan never takes those moments for granted.  
Phil finishes the editing, and he tells Dan about the latest feedback and tweets on their gaming video and Dan smiles thankfully, painfully trying to convey his emotion. Guilt bubbles in his chest.  
Truth is, Dan can't think of anything to do in return.  
-  
 _I see you in everything I look at and I like the world better for it._  
-  
Their friendship is the foundations of the past years of Dan's life, and it's the most important part. And apparently Dan is even more into poetry and cliches than he thought, because before Phil was a darkness, thick and deep enough to drown in like oil. Now he's got a light. Phil is like a lantern, swinging high above hikers, friendly and modest but so helpful, he's Dan's light and now Dan can look at the world without the haze.  
Their friendship is made of smiles and sarcasm and music but also words, wise words muttered into Dan's hair and shoulder as Phil holds him tight. Phil's words are well placed, perfect and solace. They provide reason for purpose and reassurance, even when Phil can't provide an answer. Phil dismisses Dan's claim at insignificance by saying that Dan matters to him, and even if Phil is Dan’s definition of insignificant, it doesn't matter because Dan is important in Phil's universe, and Phil's universe is the only copy of it, because it is seen through his eyes only, and if that isn't important he doesn't know what is and “Dan Howell, you are so fucking important”. He speaks of how happiness is what Dan makes it, “so get out there and create mother fucking euphoria, kid”.  
If words were air then Phil's words would be Dan's oxygen, and Phil would make his air be sweet and opulent and wanted. Dan’s air used to be bitter and emaciated and foggy, but now it's better and it wraps it's tendrils round Dan's mind. He knows he sees the world because of Phil, and it means everything carries his friend with it. He thinks of Phil when he sees how bright the sun is, set in the glass blue sky, and when he sees dandelions wafting in a street driven breeze. Everything is more appealing now he knows what he's living for, kind of.  
Phil is quite literally everything for Dan, but Dan doesn't mind having Phil wrapped round him like silver cord. It makes everything sparkle.  
-  
 _I wonder if people can mean so much because you are my gravity and my stars and my entire world and I can’t bring myself to accept that that’s a bad thing._  
-  
Perhaps Phil’s words and iridescence means Dan is heavily reliant on Phil, and maybe that’s a bad thing. But it doesn’t seem like that, when Phil comes back into the room and Dan feels lighter again, when he calms Dan down and reassures him and Dan’s alright again; it doesn’t feel bad at all. It’s a medicine.  
Before the age of eighteen, Dan never thought it possible that someone could mean so much to him, that someone could treasure him and for him to treasure them back. After the age of eighteen, Dan started to wonder if maybe he’s a little bit insane for thinking so much of Phil - maybe he still is wondering, but he doesn’t focus on that - and now he just thinks how lucky he is that he was wrong. So, so wrong.  
When Phil helps Dan, it’s like he’s been grounded. Stopped from floating away into a black hole of abyss. It’s not even like he’s dependant on Phil in those times, because he’s flying so high he forgets all hope. It just happens that Phil’s there, and it’s okay again. And when Phil tells Dan a story or speaks what he’s on his mind, Dan feels like he’s waking up at dawn. Everything is adorned with stars and light, and it’s like the world has been drawn with silver and gold. Phil creates his whole world, Dan thinks. He doesn’t care how legitimate that belief is; it feels like it and it feels good.  
They film together and edit together and do everything together, and Dan is fairly certain that everything which has been under the influence of Phil in some way is much better - the viewers probably know, too. His videos are happier and built on laughter - heck, his smile probably feeds off Phil and Phil alone - and the editing is top notch and-  
Fuck, Dan wouldn’t be able to cope without Phil, not now. He likes it like that, though. To exercise his new found poetical skills further: Phil is a drug. Needing Phil is a drug.  
And when they go to parties Dan sticks as close to Phil as possible, shoulder to broad shoulder if he can help it. And when he’s there, he can joke and say everything and anything. When Phil isn’t there, Dan makes do with a filter in his brain and a smile that could shatter as easily as the mirror he stares in every morning and night.  
-  
 _I didn't believe in time travel but you make me feel like I'm in highschool all over again and now I'm not so sure_  
-  
Dan’s infatuation isn’t helped by Phil, either.  
Phil is too beautiful, and he laughs so hard with Dan, and Dan tries to laugh too but he’s too caught up in Phil. His face lights up and a heavenly melody falls from his lips. Just a snippet of it can enthrall Dan.  
Dan’s heart thuds so fast it’s like there’s a marching band in his chest, sometimes. All it takes is an accidental hand brush and he’s off, bashful and flustered and he feels like a teenager again. It’s so hard to keep it all in, to not just bring his lips to Phil’s goddamn perfect grinning ones.  
And then Phil has the audacity to cuddle with Dan as they watch a movie, has the audacity to lean his head on Dan’s shoulder when Dan’s reading and look over his shoulder, hair tickling Dan’s neck and breath calming him and his presence sending Dan’s hearts in flips and spins. And when his heart spins, it’s like performing acrobatics without a net and Dan can’t help but take the risk and now he’s falling, falling for Phil and the only outcome will be pain.  
-  
 _your smile could make flowers grow and now there's a love blossoming in my chest that's bigger than any rose_  
-  
PJ and a few other friends are over. Him and Phil are squashed up on the sofa, and Phil’s doing the smile that warms Dan’s heart before he remembers the smile isn’t for him and never will be. The smile spreads onto Dan’s face too, though. Of course it does.  
Dan doesn’t know what to do. He can’t stop loving Phil and fuck, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s so abashed and so flustered and so _fucked_.  
This has happened before but as his breath starts to quicken slightly and as his eyes sting, there’s a warmth beside him in the form of Phil Lester, and Dan needs to escape.  
“I - I need to get a drink,” he excuses himself in a stutter of elisions. He rushes away before they can object, into the kitchen. He pours a drink of water, his mouth suddenly dry, and the water splashes everywhere before he turns the tap off; he gulps it down quickly. The cold freezes his head but Dan bolts it down, eyes scrunched shut. PJ has entered, now, and stands by the door watching, eyes drowning in sympathy and care. Deep breaths rip through Dan’s lungs as he leans against the kitchen counter. He tries to focus on the bubbles of Phil’s laughter as it floats into the kitchen, focuses because that’s always calmed him before, but now all it offers is another stab at his heart. The tears are threatening to spill, sharp arrows digging in his retina, and the acrid air that he breaths in tastes like gas drifting over the battlefield.  
“Hey, Dan, don’t panic. It’s okay” PJ says softly, fixing his gaze on Dan. Dan shakes his head hopelessly. “No, Dan, listen to me. Phil loves you, okay? He always will. No matter the outcome, you will always have him, and he will always love you, love you so much. It’s okay.” And Dan reckons PJ always knew, knew by unspoken cries for help that Dan was bound to scream one day. PJ’s voice relaxes, slows, and grows slightly quieter, but it’s just as reassuring and confident. “It’s all going to be okay.”  
And it’s not okay, not in the slightest. But PJ’s right. There’s two ways this could go. Either the moment happens and Dan’s love is requited, and he’ll have Phil; or, it doesn’t, but time will heal the pain, and having Phil as a best friend whom he loves, loves, just without the poison. And Phil has given Dan hope before, so why shouldn’t he be hopeful now? Maybe, probably, it will work out one way or another.  
Hopefully.  
-  
 _you will always be my favourite what if_


End file.
